Fallen God
by givemefoodplease
Summary: When Loki falls from the shattered bridge to Earth, he doesn't there will be a problem in gaining temporary accommodation and a guide. However, he is surprised to learn that a certain mortal female doesn't respond well to being threatened, and he finds Earth and it's inhabitants, especially her, to be less inferior than he expected


Hi guys! This is my first story concerning Loki, so please point out anything that makes him seem out of character via reviews! I am also British, so any 'errors' may be how we role in Britain. However, there may be a few actual errors too, knowing me.

Some information- Eiriol lives in Wales, and her name is welsh, meaning 'Snowy'. It is pronounced _ay-rhi-ohl_ , with a little bit of a rolling 'r' in the 'rhi' bit. For those of you who do not know, Wales is one of the four countries that make up the UK, and is situated next to England, however is a separate country, like Scotland. If you don't know where it is, look up a map of Britain and you'll find it :)

Pain.

Falling.

Crashing, pai-

Nothing.

In sequence, these sensations were what the youngest prince of Asgard felt as he fell from the newly shattered bridge. He felt numerous others- the air resistance tearing at his face, the brief, unwelcoming vacuum between worlds, and after what felt like an age, air again. However, all of these minor feelings were pushed aside, replaced by the ones stated earlier.

When the prince finally made contact with the ground of Midgard, he landed flat on his back. Pain raged through his nervous system for half a second, unchecked, before the counteracting upwards force of the ground below him, combined with the momentum he had gained from terminal velocity, crushed his ribs, leg and left arm. He felt nothing for a fraction of a second, or it could have been a year, and then the Asgardian retreated into unconsciousness.

She jammed the key into the stiff, old wooden door, and pushed it away from her with her foot. This ritual was repeated every time she wanted to leave the house, and she exhaled loudly in satisfaction as she heard the key click in the lock as she tried to turn it.

She swung the door open, thermos flask of tea in hand, to be greeted by a very light drizzle. The rain didn't deter her however, and she stepped outside and turned the key in the lock again, this time pulling the stiff door towards her by holding the handle and leaning back. She slipped the key into her coat pocket, turned around, and walked down the long drive.

She tilted her head skywards, enjoying the light rain dusting her eyelashes, and creating a dewy blanket that covered her woollen scarf. The rain didn't bother her- she was British, and knew how to get on with what she was doing, no matter what the weather. She padded down he bricked driveway, avoiding the three chickens that clucked at her feet, her sturdy leather walking boots gripping the wet ground nicely.

When she reached the end of the driveway, she continued along the road before crossing, and stopping in front of a style. The wooden contraption, made for crossing gaps in fences and hedges in the country, was slippery and mossy, but she leaped over it with the accomplished ease of someone who had repeated that action time and time again. This was because she had. Eiriol had lived in the country all of her life: she was used to clambering over styles and climbing over gates.

The mud of the field sucked at her boots, and she could feel her heels sinking into the ground with every step. She took a sip from the flask she held in her right hand, and shoved her left into the pocket of her coat. After a few minutes of walking, she came to a small stream, with a wooden bridge crossing it. Eiriol lent over the side of the bridge, and watched the water flowing towards her. The location dredged up welcome childhood memories of Wellington boots and splashing, and the corner of her mouth quirked up into the lopsided smile that was custom for her. She walked forwards, her footsteps sounding hollow as she crossed the wooden bridge.

Eiriol tended to walk a lot- it helped her vent off steam. Of late, there was a lot of steam to vent, as she was staying with her parents for a month after finishing University. Her younger siblings still lived with her parents- her brother was still in senior school, and her sister had decided not to go to uni, much to her parent's disappointment. The only member of her family that wasn't in the house was her oldest brother, who was busy traveling the world with his girlfriend. Even though Eiriol loved her family, as most people did, sometimes they infuriated her. Thankfully, both of her younger siblings had passed puberty, so were less stroppy and argumentative, but sometimes fraternal friction would still occur. Her family that afternoon, however, had driven up to London to spend the week with her Auntie. She informed them she would catch up later- she had a few friends to see again before she left Wales.

She crossed two more fields until she came to the gate that blocked off the forest. Just looking at the gate brought back memories of her and Arron, her older brother, exploring the forest together, as their other siblings were too young. She set down her flask, grasped the top of the gate, and did a neat shoulder roll over it, landing on her feet. She, ridiculously, felt like throwing her arms enthusiastically in the air as she had seen gymnasts do after a routine. She grabbed her flask, and began to walk into the trees.

He opened his eyes, and immediately regretted the decision. The bright sunlight caused his pupils to contract painfully, and he quickly shut them again. He opened them again, this time more slowly, blinking until his eyes adjusted to the light. He was lying on his back, in a crater surrounded by trees. Suddenly, pain came rushing back to him. He gasped, and his back arched without his consent. He let out a loud cry, and in response, all of the birds in the trees above him called in alarm, and scattered.

He gritted his teeth, and assessed the damage, from feet up. From the pain in his lower left leg, he could tell it had been broken. Not a compound fracture, he hoped, they could be potentially fatal, causing a deadly blood embolism. His upper legs, pelvis and lower spine had been mercifully spared, but the constricting, stabbing pain every time his diaphragm contracted and drew air in and out of his lungs told him that his rib cage hadn't.

Loki extended his fingers, and re-clenched them into fists, and found his left arm to also be injured. The pain was enough to be a fracture, but it wasn't as bad as his leg. Taking lots of shallow breaths, the only kind his ribs would allow, he prepared himself to sit up. It wasn't safe in the open, he did not know what realm he had fallen into. Contracting his stomach muscles he slowly brought his chest at a right angle degree to his legs. He let out another cry of pain, this time trying to stifle it. Almost shouting, he managed to drag his body up into a seated position. From here, he could asses the state his leg was in. He sighed in relief as he saw the bones were not dislocated, forgetting himself. He stiffened in pain again. Even sighing brought him agony.

The crater he made when he fell was about one and a half metres deep, full of jagged edges and rocks that Loki could use to climb, if his body allowed it. There was no question about it- Loki had to leave the crater and find shelter soon, or some creature may find him first.

Grunts of pain and effort could be heard by the creatures residing in the forest, issuing from the god as he dragged himself out of the crater, his one good arm being assisted by his one good leg. The limbs he could ignore- he could manage briefly without them. The chest however, he had to use, and every time he tried to pull himself out, his ribs screamed in protest.

By the time the prince had pulled himself out of the pit, the sun was nearing the centre of the sky.


End file.
